


Song of the Sword-Swinger

by Who Shot AR (akerwis)



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:19:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akerwis/pseuds/Who%20Shot%20AR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the adventures of Joan Cousland, called Jennet, last lady of the Grey Wardens, as told by the man who knew her best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song of the Sword-Swinger

Duncan's recruit arrived in mid-morning, just as the mists were finally clearing from the pines far below Ostagar. She'd had to come to Alistair, who'd been up since daybreak and busy since five minutes after. Normally, he'd have liked to come around and bear tidings of welcome in the form of good conversation and bad jokes, but on a morning like that one, the fact that he'd had time to meet her at all was a stroke of luck on his part.

He was in the middle of a none-too-promising conversation when she approached, standing just off to the side to let the mage finish insulting him. Who knew that delivering a message from the Revered Mother was tantamount to harrassment? Alistair replied in kind and was called glib for his troubles, but at least he was done playing courier for the moment.

The awkwardness of beginning this conversation in the wake of that one weighed upon Alistair; he shifted out from under it with a joke. "Nothing like the Blight to bring people together."

The woman laughed. "It's the miracle of war."

"It's like a party," Alistair continued, spurred on by her encouragement. "What if we all stood around in a circle and held hands? It'd give the Darkspawn something to think about."

"Let's put that mage on the other side of the circle." She rolled her eyes, then glanced back over her shoulder. The mage was long gone, but evidently, she hadn't thought to check until after the words were out of her mouth.

"Sounds good to me--I don't want to catch any of the rain from the dark cloud hovering right over his head." With a grin, he asked, "We haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you'd happen to be another mage."

The woman shook her head, and something about her expression suggested that she was having a hard time resisting the urge to roll her eyes again. Maybe it was the quirk of her eyebrows. "I'd hate to meet the mage who carries a broadsword. I'm a new recruit."

"Oh! Duncan's--I'm sorry, I should've recognized you."

It was obvious after she said it. She had the gait and stance that was called mannish in women but just looked like the walk of a fighter to Alistair's eye, dark hair that couldn't have been more than a finger's length at its longest, and a small nose with the tell-tale bump of an old break. Wherever he'd found her, Duncan had chosen well; no doubt she had plenty of experience wielding the sword at her hip.

"Don't worry about it. I wouldn't expect you to know me on sight." She shrugged, giving him a crooked little smile.

What little tension he'd felt at having accidentally slighted her disappeared, and he nodded. "That conversation wasn't exactly the introduction I'd hoped for--you didn't exactly see me at my best." But really, was 'slyly insulting people who could set you on fire' _anyone's_ best? Hopefully she'd understand--or, at least, wouldn't hold it against him. "I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden. But Duncan likely told you that. As the junior member, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining."

If his babbling annoyed her, she didn't show it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jennet Cousland of Highever."

"Right! That was the name." Duncan had written to them of her, but there was enough to do in a given day that most of the details had slipped his mind. Noble-born was all he recalled now, and that was evident enough from the surname 'Cousland.' "You know--it just occurred to me that there've never been many female Grey Wardens. I wonder why."

"Too smart to join, maybe." That small, crooked smile turned larger, cockier. Alistair couldn't help but grin back.

"Too smart? You wound me." And then he raised his eyebrows, affecting an open, innocently curious look. "If most women are too smart to join, and you're standing here with me, what does that make you?"

It was only after it comes out of his mouth that he realized what a risk it was to imply Jennet Cousland was stupid when he knew her so little. He could certainly understand her earlier glance back to check whether the mage was within earshot.

"One of the boys." She was still grinning like they were sharing a joke--which, Alistair supposed, they were. Everything ventured, everything gained.

"We'll have to call you Johnny Cousland instead." He laughed and was pleased to hear her join him. "So I'm curious--have you ever encountered Darkspawn before?"

From the way she shrugged, utterly devil-may-care, he could already guess the answer. Another line from Duncan's letters returned to him: _She has seen some hardship_. Whatever it was-- _that_ seemed to have slipped his memory--he doubted it was anything on the level of the Darkspawn. "No. But I think I'm ready for them."

"When I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was." Nothing like the training he'd had before the Wardens recruited him. Perhaps he, too, had worn a cavalier smirk when he spoke of Darkspawn before his Joining. He found now that he couldn't recall. "I've got to admit, I'm not looking forward to encountering more."

And even if Jennet Cousland had no idea what she was getting into--even if she later might come to recall her comments with a certain ruefulness--she recognized the seriousness of Alistair's warning. Her face growing more sober, she answered, "If you wouldn't mind telling me about them, I'd appreciate it."

Alistair nodded. "Let's head back to Duncan so you can get started on your Joining. I'll tell you about them on the way."

They walked along the stone flagstones together, and he spoke of his experience with the Darkspawn, for what little it was worth. Just before they found Duncan, Alistair prayed, glancing up at the brilliant blue of the sky. _Maker, let her get through the Joining. We could use her._

❧

Later, he regretted not making the same prayer for the other two initiates. He knew that it was for the best that Daveth and Jory weren't made wardens--neither weakness nor cowardice would help the Grey Wardens defeat the Blight--but knowing that didn't make it any easier to watch them fall. And, in Ser Jory's case, it was made worse with the knowledge that his blood would dry on the flagstones until it flaked away or someone sent a serving-girl to scrub it off.

Jennet, though--she was a brave lass, watching Daveth keel over and Jory's blood and bile seeping out of his armor and still reaching for the cup. And after she took her sip of that vile brew, refusing to hesitate even a moment, she'd been strong enough to withstand its poison. Her eyes took on an eerie, milky sheen, almost glowing in the twilight, and she collapsed. But she lived.

Alistair wondered what it was like for her. Had she seen the same things as he? Had the monsters' blood whispered to her as she swallowed, promising her death even as she lived to tell the tale? What had it felt like? For him, the draught had left the sensation of daggers everywhere it touched--over his tongue, down his throat--until his sight went white and everything vanished but his duty to the Grey Wardens. They said it was different for everyone who was Joined, but he wasn't so sure. Perhaps they all experienced the same thing but found different ways to talk about it.

It wasn't as though they talked about it often, anyway.

As they waited for her to wake, he found himself wondering what they would have done with her dog if she'd failed. Put it in with all the others, he supposed, and hoped it would learn to love another master as well as it did his mistress. It was hard for mabari, particularly for those who seemed just on the near edge of spoiled, as this one was. But with time, it would adapt.

Luckily, the dog would have no need to do so: Fido came bounding up when Jennet opened her eyes. He managed to push Alistair out of the way with a great hulking shoulder--damned mabari, as charming as they could be, were _strong_ \--and proceeded to lick Jennet's face.

"Stop it," she mumbled, her words a bit slurred. She raised an arm slowly to push Fido away. "Get off of me, you stupid oaf--oh, fine. Yes, you're a good dog. Yes, very good. I missed you, too."

Alistair laughed, and even Duncan was smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Welcome to the Grey Wardens, Jennet Cousland."


End file.
